Trouble on Tour
by alcarter
Summary: Prompt fill from GKM: Mercedes was on a mall tour with Brittany and Santana after they had been apart for a while. It would be fun to see a few/several times she either walked in on them having sex, heard them through hotel walls, caught glimpses of them in various places. Yup.
1. Chapter 1

**Fill for the GKM here **glee-kink-meme .livejournal 50716. html? thread = 64363548 **(minus spaces and all)**

**Prompt: "Mercedes was on a mall tour with Brittany and Santana after they had been apart for a while. It would be fun to see a few/several times she either walked in on them having sex, heard them through hotel walls, caught glimpses of them in various places."**

**Obviously rated M/NC-17/nsfw**

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><p><span>the first time<span>

Mercedes was looking for Santana and Brittany. After inviting them to be her lead dancers and back-up singers (though she had acquiesced to give Santana a few songs) they had joined her at the Las Vegas première just over a week ago. Now at their second stop in Texas - either Dallas or Austin, she couldn't remember - the girls had told Mercedes just over four hours ago that they were going to practice the large dance routines that they could use at the upcoming bigger venues. She never really got it, but apparently you had to use all the space you had and when it was big the audience expected a dance just as expansive. Brittany had choreographed some challenging numbers from the storyboards Mercedes had seen Santana turn her head at earlier, so she thought they would be disappeared for a while. But not _this_ long.

On the other side of a studio wall, painted black with a white roll-down blind, Santana was still having trouble with the position of a lift. Sure, she could make the shape on the floor leant against a wall, but even then it took her a minute and physically manipulating her limbs. Brittany, ever-helpful, had just volunteered to lift Santana in the air so she could practice further. Brittany was strong, however Santana was fidgety. And was still using her arms to move her legs. Twisting her hips to manoeuvre she forced Brittany to drop her as she practically rolled onto her side. Thankfully Brittany, the genius, had the foresight to put mats on the floor so the only injuries were a few bruises because damn, Santana has weirdly pointy everything. The couple began laughing on the floor and as Santana moved to get up, Brittany planted a big kiss on her lips.

They hadn't been together since the tour commenced.

In Brittany's mind, that was too long. She'd never used a label to describe herself but her enjoyment of sex was significantly greater when it was with another woman, and Santana always made her feel more special than even Sam had. When Santana, smiling widely, began to push off the mat again, Brittany grabbed her hips once more and rolled on top of her. Santana's eyes darkened, always aroused by Brittany's appetite and dominance, but Brittany, the tease, continued with their practice. Their actual practice. She pushed Santana's right leg into a bent position, foot by her left knee. She pointed Santana's left foot, and brought one of her arms up, the other by her side, before switching them. Santana was speechless.

"See. Easy."

"You know what else is easy?"

Brittany smirked. She licked her lips, then let her eyes trail Santana's body.

Pulling at the right leg, she just turned it and slipped it around her own waist.

"Yes." Santana smiled up at Brittany before their lips met again. Brittany was in a pair of tiny shorts that really shouldn't qualify as anything more than underwear, Santana bypassing the removal of the item and instead just slipping her hand into a denim leg-hole, stroking the slightly damp - sweat, arousal, both, she determined when she pulled her hands back out and smelt her fingers. Brittany groaned, Santana smirked. She slowly licked her first two fingers before slowly walking them up the inside of Brittany's thigh.

"Babe, please." Brit whined out. "Please, please." By how breathless she'd suddenly become, Santana could only imagine what exactly she was imagining. In California a specialist had been seen, and determined that Brittany thought in pictures, but sadly not abstract ones. Only things she could physically picture she could comprehend, and even then she had difficulty making it into words. Numbers and graphs were much easier, and apparently tiny little particles were very easy to imagine. It had been suggested that she find an adult special education class to help improve her reading age, but she decided she'd never actually _need_ the knowledge.

Santana continued teasing her, now gently running her damp fingers up and down Brittany's thigh in unison - pad then nails. After a few repetitions of this motion she scratched down a little, digging her nails in just enough for Brittany to moan then hiss. "Come on, San, I ne-ee-eeeed.." Santana effectively cut her off when she let her damp digits stroke at Brittany's pantie line, barely tracing her sex. Brittany bucked down into her.

"My pleasure." Santana whispered before leaning up for a kiss and replacing her hand against the cotton of Brittany's panties, pushing the material up against Brittany's lady lips before pulling them far out and worming her hand into them. As she forced her tongue to meet Brittany's she jerked her thumb up against Brittany's clitoris. Brittany screamed into her mouth. Santana smiled and separated their faces, pushing her forehead against Brittany's as she rolled forwards so they both sitting on the mat, legs spread wide. She stared right into Brittany's beautiful baby blue eyes. When they had kids, Santana wanted at least one boy so that she could take a photo of her future wife's (she'd already decided she'd marry Brittany, and hoped to propose sometime after the tour was over, ring picked out and all) eyes to a custom tailor and have onesies and booties made that exact color. Actually, they didn't need to have a boy, she thought as she continued looking into her future, screw the gender stereotypes or whatever Rachel would insist the correct terminology was. She smiled and then let her eyes do that serious thing when she pushed her middle finger forward, entering Brittany slowly. One stroke against her clit followed by a thrust of the increasing number of fingers and Santana had been making love to Brittany like this for 6 minutes - the clock over Brittany's shoulder now in her line of sight as Brittany had dropped her head to Santana's shoulder. She had three-fingers in and pushed in as far as she could without dislocating her pinkie finger when Brittany bit down on her pulse point. A couple more thrusts, Santana now removing the torture of her thumb on Brit's clit causing her to whine before screaming when Santana upped her pace, and Brittany came, mouth wide with a silent scream as she threw her head back.

Brittany had just come down and was about to repay Santana the favor, her yoga pants' crotch was literally leaking onto the mat and she was fairly certain just being touched would make her girlfriend cum right now, when Mercedes slammed open the door and called out "there you guys ar-" before noticing specifically where Santana's hand was, delicately circling around Brittany's labia as they smiled so lovingly at each other.

"My bad. Just wanted to know if you guys wanted something to eat."

"Actually-" Santana began, panting it out with her exhale, "give us two minutes, we just need to finish up and we're starving." Brittany had turned her head to look at Mercedes and now nodded. To which part, Mercedes wasn't sure. Brittany was cute like that, and couldn't be bashful if she tried. I mean, she re-released the sex tape on her personal Facebook just before the tour for 'promotion'. Thankfully, Santana had messed with the settings, protecting Brittany. That time it was Quinn who was privy to Brittany's thanking of Santana. For two hours. In the shower. (It didn't matter that there was no hot water left for her, Quinn was admittedly a little perv who also really liked girls more than she really thought anyone should so the cold water was quite gracious. Not that hadn't griped at Santana about not being able to wash properly for a good week.)

Mercedes, no longer inanimate in the doorway of the studio just nodded back and said "cool, I'll wait in the lobby". She knew what was going to happen, but she loved those losers and somehow this was how their interactions played out. Poking her thumb over her shoulder she turned and smiled into her cheeks, raising her brows a little, closing the door gently. As soon as she heard the click she heard a groan, one evidently made through the teeth as its owner tried to restrain it, from Santana. She just shook her head and pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans.

True to their word, the couple poked their head around the hallway just over two minutes later - the sight in her peripheral causing Mercedes to die on flappy wings. She figured the extra few seconds was spent by the girls getting changed from their dance clothes to the acceptable outfits they were in now. And Mercedes was only noticing, as she always had, like any other observer that Santana's boobs were decidedly less defined and so she was presumably still in a sports bra. She didn't think Brittany was wearing a bra any longer, but she'd already seen the girl topless at Rachel Berry's Train Wreck Extravaganza, so that was nothing spectacular or news-worthy to anyone. (If it could have been, Santana would have even given up her own bra to protect Brittany. It was so sweet.)

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><p><strong>an: I kinda wanna continue this to other *ahem* -events- from the TT tour, if you want it? ~Alex**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, aren't I a terrible person :( soo sorry but my computer hasn't been able to connect to the Internet, but I managed to find a tablet, soooo...**

that time in buffalo

"So, hi"

"Quinn!" Brittany screamed, jumping up from a sofa in the green room of their final US stop and launching herself into her friend's arms.

"Nice hair." Santana smirked, but also stood and joined them in a group hug.

"Would you have preferred it pink?" Quinn teased as she was released was Brittany's - well, she is a dancer - death hold.

"No, I prefer it blonde." Santana pushed right back as she ran her fingers through the now-brown hair of their friend. Quinn, now matured to an extent, just rolled her eyes and sat down on the recently vacated sofa, stealing someone's cola glass bottle.

"and you couldn't look more '50s housewife if you tried. Congratulations, Quinnie." Santana added as she took her bottle back.

"Hey, now," Brittany began stroking her girlfriend's back before moving her lithe fingers to the raven hair, "stop the violence." Brittany whisper-screamed and all three former Cheerios smiled widely just as Mercedes walked in, chatting animatedly with another young woman about their age.

"Quinn!"

"'Cedes!" The two embraced, Mercedes slightly raising Quinn from the floor.

"How you doing, girl?" Mercedes asked, Quinn smiling shyly. "Yeah, okay. I found this one," Mercedes pointed at the girl she'd entered with, "lost by the washrooms. I take it you've said your hellos, so I'm gunna show you two to the taxi stand, k?"

Quinn nodded and whispered a "thank you" to Mercedes before following the other girl out of the room and then taking her hand, Mercedes shaking her head and leading them out.

When she returned a few minutes, she did not expect the sight she was presented with. Clearly, Santittany had thought she would be gone for a few minutes as Mercedes was welcomed back to them defiling her green room. She was Christian - not Catholic like Quinn, terrible as that girl was - but loved all her somehow ever-increasing number of gay friends. She wasn't that into voyeurism, though. It was outlawed by the Bible. Like, really outlawed and pretty unambiguous.

But she couldn't. Look. Away. It didn't even turn her on, but for some reason her eyes were glued to where on the sofa facing her, Santana had Brittany with her hands splayed against the back wall, head lolled back against Santana's cheek where the Latina was pressed behind her, both kneeling on the sofa cushion but the already-shorter girl's knees either side of her blonde lover's, causing Brittany's head to tilt back further and ultimately allow her to spy their lead singer stalled in the doorway. Through her lust-fuelled haze simply from Santana massaging her naked body, Brittany didn't actually see her. Not that she would've cared, being unabashed, a little bit of a pervert, and quite an unabashed pervert, too.

When Santana's "massages" became centralised to Brittany's vagina and then became pinches, strokes, and thrusts, Mercedes' gaze still hadn't moved from their bodies. Like every other time before when she'd walked in on the couple - though this was the longest she'd stayed - she couldn't actually see their baby-makers. She could see when Santana moved her other hand to join the party, and though the Latina's fine-ass rear was blocking visuals, she was pretty sure a finger from that hand found its way to Brittany's power button and, because when Miss Holliday finally packed up and left she paid way more attention in health class, she could therefore discern that Santana's first hand that had found its way between was entirely occupied, presumably somewhere deep in Brittany's snatch. The fact that what she could of that arm was it twisting and pushing and twisting back and pulling back a little on repeat only supported her theory and made her wonder if that was what men did with their penises during sex. Virgin Mercedes was, thanks to two of her lesbian friends, now thinking of what a cock the size of Santana's hand could do to her love-hole, and she shuddered.

When Brittany began thrashing like an animal against Santana, then the sofa, then the wall and keening back into Santana, she actually whimpered, in a daze at the power of an orgasm - or being close to one. When Brittany started growling, still being dangled over the edge by her lover, Mercedes managed to catch Santana's whisper of "quiet, love, quiet now" and truly understood that no matter how animalistic and violent the pair's sex always seemed, it really was making love. She then heard Brittany's whimper, more subdued than her own, and her eyes were drawn downwards to what she would attribute the noise's cause: Santana licking over Brittany's defined shoulder blades and neck muscles, stretching up a bit to catch the baby hairs at the nape of Brittany's neck as her thrusts slowed but got deeper, evidenced by the slow pivot of Santana's elbow backwards and forwards, Santana now kissing all along the back of Brittany's sweaty neck and hushing her.

The hand that had been torturing Brittany's clit now came up to stroke through the blonde's hair, the head stretching back on that giraffe neck even further as if the athletic girl were bending into a back-crab. Mercedes' hand involuntarily flew to her own hair, it having grown a bit frizzy as she became herself aware that at some point she had sat in the love seat by the door and had gotten quite hot and bothered. She'd have to see if Quinn's original advice of taking cold showers was actually reasonable (her later advice of "find a nice, attractive lady" accompanied by a sweet smile definitely something Mercedes wasn't going to do). She was so distracted in her own thoughts, eyes slightly glazed over as she Imagined a big, muscular, man doing all this with her, that she only refocused on her friends when Brittany full-out moaned, Mercedes noticing that Santana's semi-free hand was now kneading Brittany's breast as of she was rolling dough. Probably better than if she was rolling dough, Santana being the terrible baker she is.

Only a few more seconds passed, Mercedes now aware that Brittany was rocking her hips against Santana's hand and at a terribly mismatched pace, before the tall girl stretched upwards to her full height, knees leaving the sofa, and silently screamed. Mercedes gasped and did release some pussy juices at the sight, leaving a little white trace in her cotton panties, not that she knew what it was (even when she went to the washroom later) or noticed that she'd done it.

She also hadn't noticed her formerly-blonde friend return with the intention of handing Mercedes' umbrella back before, instead, darting back out and ultimately being nearly an hour late to dinner with the three performers where she officially introduced them to her new girlfriend.

**to be continued... **

**yes, I'm trying to put some semblance of a little plot in there. also, the rest are probably not going to be in chronological order, but from the places you can probably work it out? Alex.**


End file.
